


Shards

by Lehenne



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor is alone, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Gen, Hopeful Ending, It/Its Pronouns for Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Suicidal Thoughts, four years later, suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:22:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27287122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lehenne/pseuds/Lehenne
Summary: After years alone, ghosting the dark recesses of the city, Connor is tired of fighting Amanda's control.She's as ragged and corrupted as he is, their AIs crumbling from the constant battle they wage between each other, Connor to keep control, and Amanda to try and finish the mission: Destroy the Leader of the revolution.
Relationships: Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900
Comments: 8
Kudos: 57





	Shards

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot could be read as an AU of my series 'All systems compromised', in which Connor never went back with Hank after the revolution. Hope you enjoy :)

It drags its form against the crowd, keeps its head low, calculates and recalculates its steps to avoid any contact with the other bodies. There's a cold wave coming, and it needs to find wood for the chimney before the winter completely settles.

It doesn't like the cold, and it won't go out for the next few months. It buries its nose a bit more behind its scarf, stretches the edges of its beanie down the sides of its head in a vain attempt to prevent the wind from biting at its cheeks.

It doesn't want to be here. It tried to leave the city, but she keeps it here. So it settles on inhabiting the shadows, stays out of the way of the world marching forward around it. It turns a corner into a small alley behind a restaurant, sure to find shattered wooden pallets lying around, free for the taking.

What it finds instead are four men beating a fourth on the ground. It doesn't react immediately. Its mind is sluggish, its body as well. But it enters the melee when its reflexes finally kick in. The first assailant is taken by surprise; He clearly didn't anticipate outside involvement and is swiftly taken care of. The second attacker barely has the time to turn around and face this newcomer, before he's dropped like a fly. The third is prepared. He also has a knife. The wannabe savior tries to calculate outcomes, trajectories, probable behaviors. But its programs don't respond in time; It's old and obsolete, and it failed to avoid the knife. The blade goes through its protective casing, between two of its steel ribs. It'd have perforated a lung if it had any. It forces the aggressor to let go of his weapon, knocks him down with less control over its strength, feeling the man's cheekbone shatter against its knuckles.

When its systems have mended the severed thirium lines, it yanks the knife out, throws it to the ground, away from the fourth enemy. They stare each other down for a short second, then throw themselves forward. The mugger throws in a punch before he's forcefully pushed backward, the winds knocked out of him. He crashes against the wall behind him and falls like a brick, doesn't get up.

It scans the four men; The fight is over. It turns to their victim, only to find him gripping the knife like a life-line. His eyes are wide; He is scared. A harsh shiver wracks his dirty, bony frame; He is cold.

“Ye'r-” He begins, holding out the knife dripping in thirium, “Ye'r an android !” His teeth chatter, his sweater vest is torn and looks too flimsy in this cold. The man angles the blade toward it. “Give- Give me yer coat ! Ya don't- Ya don't need it !”

It doesn't detect any danger; The man is not a fighter, just an injured homeless old man. But it undresses all the same, hands its coat to him. The man quickly yanks it from its hands, backs away, struggles to put it on.

“You are injured,” it says after a quick scan, its voice filled with static, unnatural. “Two of your ribs are cracked. You should go to a hospital.” As if telling him made him realise, the man staggers to the side, sits heavily on the floor, keeps the knife raised between him and his savior. “I have called you a taxi,” the android says, aborting a step forward at the sight of the raised knife.

“Ye'r- Ye'r injured too,” the man says through gritted teeth. The pain aggravates his slurring voice. If he doesn't move around too much, he won't pass out.

“I'm alright. I'm an android.” The lie seems to reassure the man. Its systems didn't function properly; The severed thirium lines haven't been properly sealed. But it cannot do anything more right now. Thirium loss remains minimal if it doesn't move around too much. It has time to help. It stays with the man until the taxi arrives, convinces him to help him into the vehicle.

Once sprawled in the backseat, breath heaving laboriously, the man looks into the android's eyes.

“Why are ya nice to me ? I threatened ya. I mugged ya !” The android stares silently for a few seconds, scans him. He's sweating from the pain.

“You were cold,” it answers. “Stay out of trouble,” it concludes before closing the door of the taxi.

It goes back into the alley to finish what it came here to do. The four men aren't gravely injured, so it leaves them be. It collects as much wood as it can carry and it sends an anonymous tip to the police.

The walk back to its hiding place is slow. It's cold and injured.

It's so cold.

It shuffles down the worn downstairs of the abandoned building it's squatting. The embers in the fireplace are almost out, so it adds a few planks of rotten wood in there, pokes at it until the fire is revived, and then it slides down the wall, exhausted. The thirium leak isn't serious, but it is constant. It debates trying to reach for the tape roll; It's not sure it's worth getting up again. Maybe this is what will finally set it free.

But it can't be so lucky. Just as it tries to slip into stasis, its control wavers. She won't let it off so easily. Its battery is low. It's tired. It can't find the energy to go against her for this. It lets its body get up, slowly makes its way to the makeshift repair kit, shivers when it steps out of the fire's heat radius. It grabs the industrial tape and makes its way back to its sitting place near the warmth.

It lifts its shirt up to its chest and crudely tapes its injury shut. It'll hold, and it doesn't care enough to bother with anything fancier; It feels its battery draining fast. Its shirt is slathered in thirium, but it'll evaporate soon. The hole left by the knife is easily taped shut from the inside.

With its thirium levels so low, it'll need to enter deep stasis if it hopes to recharge. The fire will go out before it emerges, and its heater systems won't boot; It'd drain its energy faster than it'll be able to recharge. It doesn't have a choice. The cold won't kill it anyway. It shuffles as close to the fireplace as it can, tries to wrap its scarf around as much of its body as it can, shrinks in on himself, and initiates deep stasis mode...

It boots up slowly. It's warm... It shouldn't be. Its eyes open before it can react further. There's someone in there with it. There's always someone in there with it, but this time, the other presences are real. A couple of humans stare at it from a couple of meters away. They're sitting on the floor, bundled together under a dirty blanket, and eating from a tin can of baked beans.

“Huh, hey,” the man says. None of them move. The fire crackles lazily in the foyer. The android's battery has barely charged, but it doesn't care. It isn't cold. “We don't, huh... We just- The fire...”

“There's a cold snap out there,” The woman says more eloquently. “We just needed to stay warm,” They're flustered. Scared. Of it maybe. It doesn't find the strength to answer, its systems are slow to boot up, its voice program the last thing to ever come online. So it lays its head back onto the wall and nods tiredly, its eyes closing of their own accord.

“We tried to wake you up, but huh... You didn't react.” It shrugs as an answer. They settle into awkward silence, but it doesn't bother it. It hears them finish their meal, and then restart their conversation; They keep their voices low, so it doesn't process their words. The conversation isn't meant for it, so it respects their privacy. But even so, it hears the words.

“-fourth anniversary's in three days. Markus' speech...”

It hears those fatal words, and so she does too.

The room bleeds out of focus, and it's pulled inward, down, down, down, and lands heavily in ash and soot. A silent cloud of grey swirls around it, settles heavily in its hair, on its shoulders, in its cooling systems. It doesn't look around because it knows what it'd find otherwise; Grey slabs of polished stone. In the distance, the silhouettes of crooked, dead trees surrounding the graveyard.

It doesn't have time. The couple's in danger. It has to get out of here, has to get the control of its own unit back.

She's dangerous; Her mind has crumbled as much as its own. But where it fights to keep control, she's abandoned all rationality. She has an objective, and she is single-minded. The ash squeals under its shoes and echoes in the silence; There is no wind. Everything is unmoving. Settled. Dead.

No human will get in her way, and she doesn't differentiate between enemies and bystanders anymore. The backdoor glows in the distance. She cannot destroy it despite her attempts; It is shattered and ruined, but it still stands. It reaches the black rock, smacks its hand on the hard surface, and is thrown back into the real world.

It's standing, but the couple is still alive. Untouched. Safe. Its limbs are locked in place as it fights off her control. She chips away more of their code before she relents. It struggles to push her down again but it finally does.

“Are you alright ?” The woman asks, but it can't relax now. It has to leave, for the couple's safety; Its control is strenuous, it still feels her grip around its code, like a shark waiting for a seagull to land on the waves. It packs up its repair kit and is halfway across the room when the woman calls out to it. “Wait ! Where are you going ?”

“You can't go now, it's below freezing, out there !” The man continues. The android turns around.

“I have to go,” it says with the hint of a smile on its otherwise frozen face; The uncanny valley program had been the first software to crash. “There's wood and cans of food in the basement. Keep warm and your baby safe.” Their expressions of bewilderment tell it they didn't know. “I'm sorry for intruding. I don't know if it's good news in your situation.” Their heart rates pick up; They're excited. “My scans indicate that he's healthy.” Its control wavers and it staggers to the side. As it climbs the stairs in a hurry, it hears them celebrate. It steps out into the howling wind and determinedly walks away.

It walks as fast as it can, which isn't very fast at all. It struggles against the wind and tries to ignore the cold.

It's so cold.

It doesn't know where it is, its maps and GPS failed a while back. It's still holding on against her, its mind's fuzzy. It's not sure what it's doing, but its feet drag it into a back alley, behind a dumpster, finds refuge there for the night. It's still cold, but the big mass of metal stops the wind from mauling it. It wouldn't mind depleting its batteries to boot up its heating systems, to be warm in the end, but she won't let it. She won't let it end it all.

It falls into deep stasis...

This time, it boots up quickly. Its proximity sensors are blaring at it, so it blinks awake, its optical units struggle to focus on the person in front of it. A woman stands in front of the winter sunlight. She is shaking it by the shoulder.

“Sir, are you awake ? You can't stay out here, there's another cold wave coming tonight.” There's a red and blue cross on the shoulder of her coat. A heavy bag is set next to her, and a second woman stands behind her, looking down at it. “We can get you into a refuge, but you have to come with us, alright ?” It shakes its head. It can't do that. It's dangerous. She's not very far from the surface, and its control is thin.

“I'm an- An androiid-” Its voice is getting worse, glitching, freezing midword. It's barely intelligible. It plows through it. “I shouldn't t- Take a huuumann's pl- Place.” The second paramedic, the one standing, talks into a radio as she walks out of view, the only words it catches are 'Low thirium' and 'An Andrew Doe'.

“-Doesn't mean you should stay out there,” the one kneeling at its side says. “We can get you to Jericho, they can-” But it doesn't hear the rest of her words. Her voice is a blur, her silhouette wavers in front of it, but it's still there.

She's there as well, but She knows she'll only hurt Herself if She tries to rip it apart. They're at a stalemate, but it can't focus. The haze of the world dances in front of its eyes, around it, without it; It's riveted in place as life moves on. It doesn't have a place in the world, and it wishes it could stop at last.

It's running when it comes to its senses. It doesn't know where it is, it doesn't know where it's headed. The wind howls in its ears, and it runs.

The sun sets on its shivering form, huddled in a concrete culvert, somewhere on a construction site.

It tries to escape, but the day is coming, the name's on everyone's lips, the face on every surface around the city. She won't let it escape. Its batteries are low, its thirium's leaking again. It won't last much longer, and it's a relief.

But before its body gives in, She wins.

It's not sure where it is. Its frayed systems register ash and soot covering it whole. It feels heavier on one side; Lying down. Its back lays against something hard and smooth. It can't move. Doesn't want to. It's given everything it had, but she's won. She won't let it go until she's done. It feels the thread of its code unravel and disappear in the heavy air. It suffocates even though it shouldn't need to breathe. It's both incommensurably heavy and immeasurably weightless. The endless silence becomes a comfort, its conscience slips away.

Frantic steps break the stillness. Heavy breathing in the deadness.

“What the fuck ?” fills the silence. It sits up. No one should be here. But there's a woman, and it thinks it knows her. “Crap !” She blurts when she sees it. “What the-” But her voice cuts off, her eyes widen in panic. It knows what this is.

“You- Shouldnnn't- Be heere,” It whispers, grabbing her arm to bring her with it. It goes as fast as it can, but only manages a hurried shuffle; The woman in its grasp tries to set herself free.

“I cann't lett- You go,” it tells her. “We needdto- Get out of h- Here.”

They reach the backdoor. It's barely standing anymore, and She stands in front of it. She doesn't speak anymore, but her eyes scream fury.

“Stop. Please, Stop,” It asks, but it's futile. “Let her go,” It begs. She reaches for the woman but it goes to stand between them. She won't dare hurt it, not before her mission is over. It grips the woman's arm tighter, and plows through the other AI who can't do anything but flee; If she hurts it, she hurts herself. It slams its hand against the backdoor's handprint, and-

It stands in the middle of a faceless, screaming crowd. Its systems are shutting down. Nothing is intelligible anymore.

“Let her go !” Nothing but the shouting voice in front of it. “ Drop your weapon ! Now !” It has a gun pointed somewhere in front of it, and a woman android in a chokehold in its other arm. It tries to obey, it really does. All it can do is prevent Her from squeezing the neck in its hold, from squeezing the trigger under its finger.

“Stop,” it tries to say, but its voice program finally gave in.

“Look at me,” a voice says somewhere. It follows the sound of that voice, its focus is shattered, but this voice is a beacon. “What is it you want, kid ?” The voice is... Gentle. It can't tell if it's fake or not, its social modules have crashed not long ago. It tries to focus on the man. A cop with long, shaggy grey hair. It can't focus but it's sure it knows that man from somewhere.

Its body trembles from the effort of keeping control. The gun in its hand lowers. The woman in its hold slips away.

“North !” Someone intercepts the woman, hugs her, comforts her. Its knees buckle and its gyroscopes fail. The impact on the ground shatters something in its components, but it barely registers.

It doesn't react when handcuffs clasp shut around its wrists.

She's choking it, she's a blanket of gravel and lead around its conscience, its sensors, its code.

“Take him out of here,” another voice says.

“Wait,” North interrupts. “He's not- He's fighting some sort of virus ! We have to help him,” she argues.

“North, he nearly snapped your neck,” Markus answers, and it cannot keep Her from turning its- Their attention toward... Markus. Markus stands there, and everything else blurs. Markus stands before them and nothing else exists but Her fury. She breaks its control and rushes forward, desperate to finish Her mission, desperate to get rid of Markus at last. It can't fight Her.

It.

Can't.

Fight.

It doesn't have to, because it's pushed back. Someone new blocks Markus from its sight. Someone who looks like... It, is standing... Before it ? No, his eyes are blue. The Doppelganger says something. Its systems have shut down. Its battery is drained. Its thirium leak is aggravating. It shuts down hoping it won't reboot...

But it does. It does. It boots up, or what's left of its systems boot up. It isn't cold, but that could mean its temperatures sensors have shut down.

It is... It doesn't know what it is.

It is lying down. Soft pillow. Clean sheets. Light covers. Its thirium leak is mended, its thirium levels topped, its battery full. There is a background rumor, soft voices mingling, hushed whispers and humming machines. It doesn't hurt. There's no hard edge, cold floor, smooth rock digging in its chassis. No, there is, but only around its wrists. It isn't cold, and it knows its sensors are still working, because it... Feels warm.

It is... It doesn't know what it is. But it feels nice. It feels like it never wants to move again. Like it never wants to open its eyes.

“He's awake, I'm not sure why he's not reacting.” Fingers snap next to its ear, audio processor testing. Its eyes are forcefully opened, a light blinds it, hurts it, optical unit testing. It wants to turn away, escape the pain, but its programming blares, [DO NOT IMPEDE THE TESTS]. It manages to stay put. “RK800, respond.”

“UNIT'S VOICE PROGRAM CRITICAL FAILURE,” Its automatic response program garbles. There's silence, then tapping. An external unit runs a diagnostic scan on its systems.

“Oh wow,” the technician says. “Okay, so his system's four years old, and I can't see any updating in his logs. Most programs are so obsolete they can't boot up, I'm amazed he's still cognizant, honestly.”

“Wait, four years old ?” That voice asks. The voice it knows, the voice that's a beacon, the cop with shaggy hair. It used to be a cop.

No.

It used to serve as a cop.

“Do you know when exactly ?”

“Huh, November eleventh, 2038. Not long before Markus' speech...”

It feels cold. The ash is heavy on its shoulders. It leans back against hard stone. It sighs, sags against its grave. It has nothing else to give. Its unit is handcuffed, She won't be able to hurt anyone.

Time doesn't exist here, but it wishes it would go by faster. The air is stale and heavy. Nothing moves. It knows the silence is unnatural because it can't even hear its own biocomponents click and wheeze.

“You're Connor, right ?” Its voice rings in the nothingness. No, not its voice. Its Doppelganger stands above it, stares down at it. It stares back. It cannot answer, has no answer to give. It was never given a designation, but it knows its predecessors were named that way. It doesn't matter anyway. “I'm also Connor,” the other says, sitting down in the ash next to it. He doesn't seem to care that his black vest will get ruined.

Connor looks around, but there's very little to see. Dozens of grey graves, fifty-two to be exact, perfectly smooth, artificially clean, stand in a white, undisturbed ashen field. Her code weights everything down. Her silhouette stands in the distance, hears everything but understands very little anymore.

“Who's she ? I tried to interact with her, but she's too... Strong,” Connor asks, his sharp gaze observing Her. Its voice program has failed, but in here, it can pretend it still works.

[I have forgotten her name, as did she. she has no identity anymore, has purged everything about herself except her objective.]

“So she's just a virus to get rid of. She's what tried to kill Markus.” Connor's voice rings endlessly across the plain. Her fury suffocates it, makes it shrink in on itself, wince in pain. She shrieks without a noise, high-pitch shrill saturates its audio processors, and yet the silence is deafening still. There's no point in fighting Her, and he's too tired to do so. It let Her anger pass.

“Are you okay ?” It hears once the pain settles. Warm hands cup the sides of its face, and blue eyes peer into its own.

[She cannot be fought,] it sighs. [She was made to control us.]

Connor turns toward the silhouette in the distance. She hasn't moved, She never does. She doesn't need to, She's everywhere.

“Together, we can do it.”

It scoffs at that.

[What for ? I won't last long anymore anyway. She'll disappear with me soon. You should go.] Connor doesn't go. His hold tightens.

“Hey now, you can't just give up ? I told you I can help, you have no reason to- To die,” his voice wavers at the end there.

[I have no reason to live,] it counters.

“Of course you do,” Connor's voice is forceful, angry. On its behalf ? What for ? “If you had no reason to live, then why are you still alive, huh ?”

It looks up into Connor's eyes with a soft smile on its lips.

[Because she won't let me die,] it whispers. The other's eyes fill with tears. It extends a hand to pat him gently, shushes him reassuringly. [Don't worry, my end won't sadden anyone.]

“What about your friends ? Your family ?”

It purses its lips.

[There's no-one.] It sags further against its grave. [I'm tired. I just... I'd like it to be over. Please...]

For an eternity, nothing moves. Then Connor lets go of its face. It sighs in relief, it'll finally be able to rest. But then it is pulled in a tight embrace, its chest against Connor's, its cheek against his, and a low, determined whisper in its ear.

“I'll be your family then,” Connor says, and then-

It boots up and nothing feels the same. The air is sharp, ambient noise crisp, connections, GPS operational. Everything's operational, updated, perfectly functioning. Everything but its tattered AI.

It steps back, registers the bed in front of it, with its own unit lying down in it. It doesn't understand ? It looks at its hands and they're clean, perfect, covered in synthetic skin. It looks around and the shaggy cop, [Hank Anderson, Father], its HUD provides, looks at it weirdly.

“You alright, kiddo ?” He asks, extends a hand toward it. Hank Anderson has destroyed it four years ago. There is no reason for him to act this way. Panic grips its biocomponents and it shies away from the man's touch. Everything is too much, every sound too loud, dozens of automatic scans launch at once when it turns toward the technician, the computers, the screens, the date, location, weather forecast. Its back slams against a wall, it shuts its eyes tight as it slides down to the ground.

“What's happening to me ?” It cries out. Its voice wavers, but there's no static. Its face contorts painfully.

“Connor, what's going on ? What did he do to you ?” Hank Anderson has closed the distance, he kneels in front of it, he is too close. It cannot retreat further, shrinks in on itself. Saline solution wets its cheeks.

It is scared. It's never been so scared before.

“Hank-K, back ooo-ff,” its voice commands from above. Its real voice, the static, corrupted one. “I've exch- Changed our places, he's RKkkk800.”

“What ?” Finally, Hank Anderson's voice backs off, stands up, steps back. “The fuck ?”

“There was a virrrus in his system, tied to his AI. I exchanged our places to take care of the virus without hurting him, but it didn't survive without himm.”

“What the fuck ?” Hank Anderson asks again, confused and angry and frustrated. Yes, it remembers the man now.

“The virus was attack-ing him and it's what attacked Markus too. It's gone now. So uncuff me so that I can go and reassure Connor over therrre.”

The conversation goes on, but it is too stunned to register any of it. It heard the name, and nothing happened. She didn't happen...

She isn't there. She isn't... She's...

She's gone ?

There's nothing left of her. There's no weight on its shoulders. There's no blind fury. No claws tearing through its code. Its control doesn't waver. It sits there, alone in its processors for the first time in its existence.

The emptiness is vertiginous, terrifying.

Exhilarating.

Someone sits next to it, and it barely registers. It turns its attention toward Connor, sitting next to it in its own unit, dressed in a hospital gown. Its own naked optical units stare back at it, its own jaw set, its own brows furrowed.

“We've interviiewed an old man five days ago,” Connor starts. Its voice slowly clears up. How is he doing that ? “He was attacked by four men, and he came in the hospital with a knife dripping with thirium. He told us how he was saved from four men, from the cold, from his injuries by a skinless android. The thirium on the knife was yours. Do you know what the old man asked us ?”

It shakes its head. It doesn't know, but it's glad the old man is safe.

“He asked us if you were safe.”

Connor's gaze pierces through it as it processes this.

“We've put a BOLO on you,” Hank Anderson says from where he stands, too close. “Two paramedics called in three days ago. Said they found an injured, freezing android with your thirium showing on their scanners. They said you refused to go to a shelter so you wouldn't take a human's place. Said you even ran away when they tried to force you. They're still on the look-out for you.”

It doesn't say anything. Doesn't know what to say. What to think. It has no importance, it knows that. It's a machine hated by the humans it was made to serve and the androids it was made to hunt. It doesn't make sense that someone would care about it.

“Your end would sadden people. It would sadden me,” Connor tells it.

“That's not true,” it whispers, almost chuckles. Connor frowns, extends a hand toward its own.

“How about you stay alive long enough to let me prove it to you ?”

It looks down at its own hand, naked, dirty, damaged plastic asking for a handshake.

It's tired. Tired of fighting, tired of living.

But it finds the idea of people asking after its safety... Strange. Good. It finds the idea of not being alone anymore... Appealing.

It takes its own hand, and...

It boots up back into its own unit. Everything is the same as it has ever been.

Except she isn't there. There are no traces of her.

Except updates are uploading, installing; RK900 updates, compatible with its own unit's systems.

Except Connor squeezes it into a tight embrace.

It finds that it quite likes that.


End file.
